The King and His Hero
by Bramble Iceweb
Summary: When the ambush at the Telmarine castle fails, the old Kings and Queens of Narnia decide to blow Susan's horn. Fate decides to send one Harry Potter to help, who has his own problems trying to defeat Voldemort. PP/HP slash. Rating may change.
1. I: And So It Begins

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from the writing of this story.

This story will contain **slash **between **Peter Pevensie **and Harry **Potter**. Read at your own discretion. Rating may go up.

I: And So It Begins

Peter Pevensie couldn't help but pace back and forth, his head throbbing unpleasantly. The attack upon the Telmarine castle failed miserably and the Narnians were losing their hope. As High King, it was Peter's duty to get back the beautiful land of Narnia and assure his people that everything would be alright. Only, Peter wasn't so sure anymore. He'd been so happy to be back in Narnia, but the land that used to be his home was different since he'd left. He despaired over this fact and, though he wanted to restore Narnia's glory and give the Narnians back their freedom, Peter felt that it wouldn't be enough for just him and his siblings to help. They needed more assistance and Peter had an idea how to get it. He stopped pacing and looked up into the solemn faces of his siblings, Prince Caspian, and some Narnians. This group of people made up his counsel.

"I have an idea," Peter said softly. "By now, I'm sure you've discovered that we cannot win this battle by ourselves."

"Got that right," Edmund piped up with a small frown.

"What do you suggest?" Caspian asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"You still have Susan's horn, right?" Peter asked Caspian, whose eyes dawned with understanding.

"Yes, but you don't know what could happen. How can you be sure that whoever you call will be willing to help us?"

"Because," Lucy spoke up, "Father Christmas said so."

"I don't quite understand," Caspian admitted.

"When Father Christmas gave me the horn, he said that help will find me wherever I was," Susan explained.

Nikabrik scoffed. "He blew the horn once and you lot came. Why, that sure did us some good," he snarled.

Peter scowled fiercely. "And who would you prefer, hm? Perhaps the barbaric White Witch shall come and cause even more madness and mayhem throughout Narnia!"

"At least she can actually rid us of Telmarine filth," Nikabrik retorted. "Unlike some _Majesties_ who, it appears, haven't the slightest idea what to do!"

Edmund jumped up angrily. "How dare you?" he spat. "Apparently Narnia has forgotten all that we did to protect her!"

"You left!" Nikabrik bellowed. "You abandoned Narnia and now you lot expect to come along a—"

"Enough!" Caspian shouted. "We are not here to place blame!"

Peter, who had been quietly fuming, stood up. "Have you all got that off your chests?" Silence answered him. "Good. Now, instead of accusing people left and right, we're supposed to be coming up with a solution. And, since we can't reach a consensus, let's have a vote. All in favor of blowing the horn again, raise your hand."

Reepicheep raised his tiny arm. "If Sire feels this course of action is best, we shall take it," he said loyally.

Glenstorm the Centaur raised his hand as well. "I have seen this in the stars," he murmured. "This course of action will help us greatly."

Trufflehunter scratched his head, took a moment to think, and then raised his hand. "I second what Reepicheep has stated."

Nikabrik stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest and didn't say anything, glaring at the ground. Even he could tell that he was going to lose this.

"Perhaps additional help will be good," Trumpkin declared as he raised his head.

"It is settled, then," Caspian said softly as he and the Pevensie children raised their hands. He took out the magic horn from within his robes, admiring its beauty and shine, though it was one thousand three hundred years old, and handed it to Susan. "It's yours; you should blow it."

Susan shook her head, took the horn, and gave it to Peter. "It was your idea," she said. "You blow it."

Peter nodded his head and gently took the horn. He pressed it to his lips and prayed silently. _'Please,'_ he thought desperately, _'please have someone truly magical come aid us.'_

Without another thought, Peter closed his eyes and blew the horn, the mystical sound resounding throughout Narnia and the countries surrounding it.

***

"Poppy, we have another one!" Harry Potter yelled as he burst through the doors of the Hospital Wing. His ankle was aching something vicious, but he supported both his weight and the weight of the bleeding girl in his arms. Poppy, Hogwarts' mediwitch, immediately rushed over towards him. Her wand was already out as she cast several diagnostic scans and healing spells.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"She was hit by a cutting curse," Harry explained, wincing slightly as he placed the girl in the hospital bed and brushed past his injured side.

His expression did not go unnoticed. "Come here," Poppy demanded. "Let me heal you."

Harry knew better than to argue and sighed in relief when the slash was healed. "Seventeen dead," he said softly. "We're still sorting through the rubble, though."

"You need to rest," Poppy replied.

"I can't do that," Harry protested. "Half the castle is gone, over two dozen people are dead, and Voldemort is still out there along with Merlin knows how many Death Eaters. There is no time to rest. Tonight's battle could have easily been the final one and then what? I need to up my training and there's nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise."

Poppy sighed and before she could say anything, the doors burst open and more people came rushing through them. Harry's heart nearly stopped when he saw a gang of red hair and he immediately stood up, limping towards the family.

"It's Percy," Ron Weasley croaked, staring into Harry's horrified green eyes. "He…he jumped in front of Fred."

Fred and George stared at the lifeless body of their brother, silently comforting each other. George squeezed his twin's hand tightly, knowing that he could have easily been the one laying in the hospital bed. Though he felt horrible for thinking it, a part of him was glad it was someone other than Fred.

Harry glanced at all of the Weasleys and, deciding they needed a private moment, made to take his leave. Ron grabbed him by the arm and looked at him, his blue, red-rimmed eyes questioning.

"I will defeat him, Ron," Harry swore quietly. "I will make sure that he doesn't take another one of your family members again."

Ron stared at him for the longest time before pulling him into a stiff hug. "I know you will, Harry," Ron said. "We all know you will."

Harry felt tugs at his heartstrings. "Go," he whispered. "Your family needs you, Ron."

Ron glanced at his dad, the silent tears streaming down his face, his dead brother, cold and lifeless on the bed, his mom, sobbing into Percy's chest, the twins, holding onto each other, and Bill and Charlie, rubbing Ginny's back as they mourned. He looked back at Harry and nodded, tears overflowing. Harry watched as Hermione moved over to hug Ron and let him cry into her shoulder. Their eyes made contact before he gave her a small, sad smile and left the infirmary.

Harry trembled slightly as he made his way towards Myrtle's bathroom. Though he hadn't killed Percy, he was somewhat responsible for the Weasley's death. Swallowing slightly, he pushed that thought from his mind. Right now, he needed to concentrate on training to defeat Voldemort as quickly as possible. He needed to research and figure ou—

Harry stopped walking and his eyes turned wary. His ears twitched slightly and he frowned slightly. "What is that?" he wondered aloud before following the mystical sound. The beautiful music led him to his destination, Myrtle's bathroom. One of the sinks was overflowing with water and Harry felt compelled to look in it. He could see a handsome boy with sandy hair, eyes closed as he held onto a magnificent horn and blew into it.

And then Harry felt like he was looking into a Pensieve once again as he fell into the water and, consequently, on top of the boy with the horn.

A/N: I really shouldn't be starting any new fics when I still have to complete _A Different Harry _along with _You Sang to Me_. I just couldn't resist posting this, however, and am wondering whether or not I should continue it. Any feedback would be nice. Updates for this story may be slow; depends on my schedule.


	2. II: Narnia's Help?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from the writing of this story.

II: Narnia's Help?

It was a peculiar feeling. Falling into a sink, that is. For a moment, Harry was strongly reminded of Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Unlike the time when he fell into one of Dumbledore's memories, Harry fell into the sink quite fast. One moment he was looking into the overflowing water and the next he was on top of the boy who looked just as shocked as he did. It took Harry only a moment to scramble off and whip out his wand, pointing it at almost everyone in the dimly lit area.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he demanded, eyeing them all suspiciously.

"Peter, are you alright?" one of the girls asked, helping to pick the fallen boy up.

Harry noted the style of dress and wondered if he had somehow gone back in time.

"I'm fine, Lucy," the boy, Peter, responded as he brushed himself off and picked up the horn.

"Who are you?" Harry repeated, glaring at Peter.

Peter eyed him momentarily. "_You're_ the one that's supposed to help us?"

Harry cocked his head slightly. "Help you? I'm afraid there must be some mistake. I'm not here to help _anybody_."

"Then what are you here for?" the older looking girl questioned.

Harry frowned. "I-I don't know," he answered truthfully, still eyeing them warily and keeping his wand pointed at them. "I was just…" He trailed off when he saw the horn in Peter's hand.

'_That music…that horn…that boy…what the bloody hell did I get myself into?'_

"I'm Lucy Pevensie," the youngest girl said, offering him a grin. "This is my sister Susan and my brothers Peter and Edmund. Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," he replied, staring at the horn.

Peter noticed him staring and asked, "Did you hear the horn?"

Harry appeared startled, but nodded his head. "Yes," he confessed. "How did you know?"

"This horn," Peter explained, "is magical. Whoever blows it will receive help. I blew it because I'm in need of aid."

Harry swallowed slightly. "What do you need help with?"

"We have to rescue Narnia!" Lucy said passionately, her wide brown eyes flashing with determination.

"Excuse me? Rescue who?"

"Narnia isn't a who," Edmund corrected. "Narnia is—_was_—our Kingdom."

Harry licked his lips. "And you need to…rescue…your Kingdom?" Harry glanced at them. "Aren't you a bit young to have a Kingdom?"

"We get that a lot," Edmund replied sheepishly. "But, well, the entire truth is a long story."

Harry nodded his head absentmindedly and took another look around the place. He realized that he was in a cave and quickly studied his surroundings. Surprise briefly overtook him when he realized there were magical creatures, but it quickly disappeared when he considered that horn's ability to conjure him. Harry bit his lip nervously before turning to stare at Edmund.

"I'm already here," he said softly. "You might as well tell me."

Lucy smiled widely. "Great!" she exclaimed. "There's so much that happened!"

"We can show you," Peter offered. "Our tale is carved on the walls."

"Of course!" Susan said. "I'd forgotten about that."

Harry was led to the far corner of the cavern and handed a torch. He hesitantly took it and his eyes widened slightly at the drawings. Gingerly, he reached out and touched them, gasping when images flashed before his eyes. He could see Lucy meet Mr. Tumnus for the first time; he could see the White Witch's minions take the faun captive; he could see the Pevensies return to Narnia together. The images in his head continued, showing Harry Narnia's history. He was overwhelmed with joy as the Narnians won their battle against the White Witch and overwhelmed with sadness as the siblings left Narnia and the Telmarines took over. His heart ached as the Narnians were enslaved, killed, and eventually forgotten, known only to be myths and legends.

When the images stopped, Harry shakily pulled his hand away from the wall and glanced at Lucy, who stared at him worriedly. "Are you alright?" she asked softly.

"Fine," he gasped, breathing heavily.

"Mind explaining what happened and why it looks like you're going to break your stick?" Edmund questioned.

"Wand," Harry corrected absent-mindedly. "And I'm not sure I know myself."

"Wand?" Nikabrik looked excited. "As in, magic wand?"

"Yes," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at the smaller creature. "I'm not in any way affiliated with the White Witch, as you called her. She wasn't even a witch."

Nikabrik's demeanor changed entirely. "She was a great witch!" he snarled.

"Oh, please," Harry scoffed. "All she did was freeze things."

Caspian glanced at the wall and then at Harry. "You know of the White Witch?"

Harry bit his lip. "Well, when I touched the wall, I could see images in my head. It showed me what happened from the White Witch's rule to the Telmarine's rule."

Peter stared into his eyes. "What are you?"

"I'm a Wizard," Harry admitted. "And, I can see why you'd need help, but I can't give you any."

"Why not?" Edmund demanded. "You wouldn't have been summoned here unless you couldn't help us!"

"I've got my own war to fight," Harry snapped. "Back in my world. People are dying as we speak and I have to go back! I can't stay here and help yours when I haven't won mine!"

Peter thinned his lips. "You don't really have a choice," he said softly.

"Are you threatening me?" Harry asked angrily.

"No," Peter assured. "You see, we can't leave. Not until our job's complete. Since you've been called here on a job, despite your being unwilling, you also cannot leave."

Harry's eyes narrowed as his body shook with barely suppressed rage. It wasn't fair. First Percy dies, sending the Weasley family into a world of pain, and now he was stuck in Narnia to help fight another war? When was it all going to end?

"This is ridiculous," Harry snarled. "I have _things_ to do! _Prophecies_ to fulfill! How the _bloody hell_ can I do what I'm _destined_ to if I'm stuck _here_?"

Caspian cleared his throat slightly. "Perhaps you were also destined to come here."

Harry glared at him. "Really?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Caspian glanced at the people around him and nodded his head. "Yes," he said firmly. "You said you had your own prophecy to fulfill; that you're destined to do something. If that is true, then whatever happens is meant to happen. Maybe you fighting in this war will help you win yours."

"Do you not _want_ to help us?" Lucy asked, crestfallen.

"That's not it," Harry replied, feeling a bit guilty. "Like I said, I have my own war to fight. My entire world is counting on me to defeat an evil Dark Lord. _I'm_ the only one that can stop him. So many people have already died and even more people are dying now that he's returned. I can't bring peace to the world if I'm stuck here."

"Oh," Lucy said softly. "I…I guess that makes sense…"

"I really am sorry," Harry said sincerely. "But, I have to find a way to get back."

Peter looked at Harry up and down. "You don't look like much," he scoffed. "How can you possibly win a war when you're scrawny?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but you're not the strongest or buffest looking guy out there."

There was a slightly cough. "My liege," Reepicheep interjected, "perhaps I may make a suggestion?"

Harry stared at the mouse. "And I thought I'd seen it all," he mumbled.

Reepicheep appeared startled. "Finally, someone who doesn't mention my species!" he cried in delight. "Oh, how lovely to see at least an inkling of originality!"

Harry snorted. "Okay then."

Peter cleared his throat. "Suggestion?" he prompted.

"Ah, yes!" Reepicheep bowed in apology. "Perhaps this dispute can be settled in an honorable battle!"

Harry blinked. "Battle? What the bloody hell for? I need to find a way home!"

"You won't be able to," Susan said matter-of-factly, echoing what Peter said earlier. "We tried the first time we came here. Until we do what we're meant to, we're trapped here."

Harry clenched his fists tightly. "How long will that take?" he inquired.

Peter shrugged. "We remain here until we're no longer needed."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I just don't have that kind of time," he protested.

"Are you willing to let the Narnians die?" Edmund demanded. "Can you really leave when people here need your help?"

Harry turned to Edmund. "Can you really force me to stay when my own people, my family, are in danger of dying? If your siblings' lives counted on you, would you callously leave them behind to help someone else?"

"We see your point," Peter said. "Truly, we do. But, there isn't any other option. Caspian is right. Perhaps it was fate that brought you here. Perhaps you need to fight this war before you can win yours."

Harry sighed softly. He could see that he wasn't going to win. Still, there was absolutely no way Harry could fight the war with the Pevensies. He made a promise to Ron; how could he fulfill it here? What if the Weasleys were in danger at this moment? Harry didn't want any more blood on his hands. On one hand, he needed to fight and kill Voldemort before the evil Dark Lord killed anyone else. On the other hand, according to the Kings and Queens of Narnia, he was needed here to help win this war and if he left he was just sentencing this group of people to their deaths.

Harry hated double-edged swords.

The Gryffindor could feel something inside of him nagging him. What if they were right? If Harry truly was destined to be the only one possible to defeat Voldemort, then whatever happened in between was meant to be. The more Harry thought of it, the more he felt somewhat obligated to help out. If he didn't do anything to help, these people would continue to be repressed and deprived. He couldn't just let them suffer when he could do something about their situation.

Harry frowned slightly. "I'll do what I can to help," he decided. "But I still have to try to find my way home."

Peter swallowed slightly. "Okay," he agreed. "We'll take what we can get."

"But, Peter, what if—" Edmund started.

"This is the best we're getting," Peter said firmly. "If he can offer us even a little help, it'll be appreciated."

Nikabrik scowled angrily. "Or he'll just end up leaving like you lot did," he pointed out nastily.

Harry snorted. "Oh, shut up," the brunet retorted. "If you truly care about your home, you wouldn't object to any help offered no matter how little it may be."

Glenstorm the Centaur nodded his head. "On behalf of the centaurs," he said, bowing deeply, "I express our gratitude."

Trufflehunter chuckled merrily. "I also express gratitude," he said.

Harry flushed as Trumpkin and Reepicheep expressed something akin to gratitude. "You don't have to do that," he said uncomfortably.

Caspian offered Harry a smile. "Thank you for staying," he said softly. "We could use the help."

Harry flushed harder and nodded his head. "You're welcome."

Peter offered Harry a small smile. "Well, since you'll be staying," he said as he walked to the tunnel out of the cave, "let's introduce you to the people you're fighting for."

A/N: Yikes! I didn't expect such a response to this story. Sorry for the kinda long wait. I had a terrible worm on my laptop and it took FOREVER to get rid of. Everything's better computer-wise, though. Please review and let me know what you think of this chapter. Any suggestions would be taken into consideration, though I don't promise to use any of them. If I do, I'll credit the person who gave me the idea. Also, check my profile! If I'm unable to update for any reason, I'll post it there.

I'll try to make the next chapter longer and update sooner. Thanks for reading!


	3. III: Meeting the Narnians

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from the writing of this story.

III: Meeting the Narnians

As Harry walked through the many entrances in the cave, his heart constricted a little more. Etched on the faces of magical creatures of all ages was misery, pain, suffering, and defeat. The failure at the Telmarine Castle had really taken its toll on these beings and hope was starting to become a foolish idea. Harry knew it was a matter of time before they cracked. He wanted to help and something in him told him to do all that he could, but all Harry could think about was seeing his own friends—his _family_—in this position. It made him see the Weasleys, mourning the death of Percy. It made him see helpless men and women featured in his visions, their bodies perfectly arched as they withered in pain and succumbed to the Cruciatus curse. It made him see children become orphans and look to him—their _savior_, their _hero_, their _only hope_—for a possible solution; a way to prove that he really _could_ save them and end the madness.

It made him more determined to find a way home.

Harry could feel eyes on him, but found it easy to ignore since the Wizarding World as a whole was a lot worse when it came to staring at him. The stare of the Narnians was different, though. Back home when most Wizards stared, they viewed him as an idol, savior, and scapegoat. He was someone meant to save them one minute, be crucified the next, and forced to become a sacrifice after that. When these people stared at him, their inquisitive and hopeful looks made Harry feel ashamed to even consider leaving without helping them. But despite his own people being hypocritical and not always deserving the efforts he made to keep the world safe, it was still the world he belonged to.

Harry noticed that the Narnians all stopped what they were doing, giving the old Kings and Queens of Narnia their undivided attention. It seemed not all of them were bitter about the siblings' disappearance like Nikabrik or the rest of the Black Dwarfs and patiently waited for an explanation as to Harry's appearance.

"I'm sure you're all wondering who this is or what he's doing here," Peter began, his strong voice commanding respect and attention. Not that Harry noticed, mind you. "This is Harry Potter, and he's here to help us."

Harry fidgeted slightly as murmurs rippled through the crowd. He offered them a small, hesitant smile and a tiny wave. "Hello," he felt obliged to say.

"As if," Nikabrik scoffed angrily, glaring at Harry. "He should go back to wherever he came from, the Wizard filth!"

The murmurs quickly turned into cries of outrage, most remembering their ancestors' suffering at the hand of the White Witch. Despite the efforts of the Pevensie siblings and the council, panic and fear was starting to manifest itself in the Narnians' hearts.

Harry stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he called. Most continued to bicker. Lifting his wand, he held it to his throat and when he spoke again, his voice boomed, "Excuse me!"

The Narnians were startled into silence. "That's one way of doing things," Caspian muttered.

With their fearful gazes fixated on him, Harry desperately wished the Earth would swallow him whole and make him reappear in his own world. "Thank you," he said weakly. "I'm not here to hurt you or anything. I promise, I'm nothing like the White Witch."

"How can we trust your kind?" a young centaur yelled, earning many nods from a majority of the crowd. "How do we know you're truthful?"

Harry licked his lips. "You don't," he admitted, "but if I were here to cause harm, do you really think Peter or Caspian or the others would let me stay here?"

"Has it truly been so long since a son of Adam or a daughter of Eve has had the throne that we've forgotten the protection they gave us?" Trufflehunter questioned, shaking his head in disappointment. "Everything was right and just whilst we were under High King Peter's rule. I doubt his character has changed since his unfortunate disappearance, and we've already discussed Prince Caspian and his loyalties last night. Must we argue in circles instead of trying to save our homeland?"

Many had the decency to bow their heads, ashamed. The Black Dwarfs, however, with Nikabrik in the lead, continued to glare angrily at the Pevensies, Caspian, and Harry. They hadn't forgotten the downfall of their race after the White Witch was killed and their angry expressions put Harry on edge; he wondered if, given the chance, they would start something.

Caspian stood forward. "We swore to help liberate you Narnians," he said. "And after our failure at the Telmarine castle, it is obvious that we need all the help we can get."

Nikabrik laughed cruelly, feeling more confident when others of his race sneered in disgust at the Prince. "It's apparent that you lot have no clue what you're doing," he spat angrily. "If Narnia's fate is only in your hands, then we're doomed! The only one that can possibly save us is the White Witch!"

"The White Witch only cares for her own power and seeks to destroy any who oppose her," Harry said angrily, glaring at the Dwarf. Yeah, not all Witches and Wizards were good, but they weren't all bad and evil. Besides, to glorify someone who was practically an equivalent to Voldemort infuriated Harry and he had to set the record straight before Nikabrik spewed any more bullshit. "That is not what a leader should be concerned about! In order to have a great and prosperous Kingdom, the ruled must be safe and happy! Their welfare comes first, like a child's needs do to a parent. For you to keep ignorantly advocating the White Witch and her actions proves that you do not care for Narnia, your _home_, and instead wish to further the superiority of your race!"

Nikabrik's mouth hung open in shock, his eyes glittering angrily. "How dare you insinuate—"

"I dare," Harry interrupted, sneering at him. He turned to the Narnians and gave a small bow. "I have no idea how to prove to you all that I mean you no harm. To be completely honest and fair to you, I do not wish to stay here longer than I have to. I have my own war to fight and my own people to save. However, I will help all that I can for as long as I can."

Glenstorm looked at Harry appraisingly. "Perhaps we can observe your skills and see what you have to offer," he suggested, looking to Peter and the others for approval.

Lucy's eyes lit up. "Is your magic different than the White Witch's?" she asked excitedly.

Harry bit his lip slightly. "Yes," he said slowly. He turned to Peter and spoke quietly, "I suppose I could show you what I've learned in school, but I need something in return."

Peter cocked an eyebrow. "What is it that you require?"

"Information," Harry replied. "I'll help you with your cause, but I'll need your help to get me back home."

Susan pursed her lips. "We already told you; you can't g—"

"I've been known to be an exception to rules, including laws of nature," Harry said hurriedly. "If I go home after helping you defeat your war and Voldemort wins because I was here, I wouldn't forgive myself if I hadn't at least attempted to return to my world. I'm more than willing to help you, but not at the expense of sentencing my world to certain death and destruction."

"I understand that," Peter said before his siblings could speak. "And, though I think it's futile, I'll help you in any way I can."

"I don't think that will happen, Harry," Lucy said suddenly, brightening. "When we go back to London, it's as if time never passed!"

Harry blinked. "Are you serious?"

Edmund chuckled ruefully. "Why didn't we think to tell you that before? It certainly would've saved us a lot of time arguing!" he exclaimed.

Peter allowed a small smile to slowly travel across his face. "I guess that solves the problem of your world perishing because you're here."

Harry coldly squished down the ball of hope and excitement that grew in the pit of his stomach. "That may be true for when you return to your world," he said softly, "but I come from a different world. What if the flow of time actually speeds up in my world while I'm here? What then?"

Edmund scowled. "Such a pessimist," he grumbled. "Can't you look on the bright side of things? You know, see the cup half full instead of half empty?"

"I'd rather not get my hopes up, if you don't mind," Harry said, feeling somewhat offended.

"As interesting as this conversation is," Caspian interjected, "I believe we were about to assess Harry's skills…"

Peter nodded his head. "Well, let's see this magic of yours," he said, feeling more than amused when Lucy practically bounced in her seat.

Harry flushed slightly, becoming more aware of all of the people watching him. "I'm not done with my schooling," he said softly, "but I can show you what I've learned over the years."

"What do you learn at the Wizard school?" Susan asked curiously as Harry whipped out his wand.

"Well, there're a lot of things you can learn," Harry replied. "Like, for our curriculum at Hogwarts, we have to take Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic, Flying, and Defense Against the Dark Arts along with any electives you want to take."

"Cool!" Lucy said. "Do you cast spells, like ala-ka-zam?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. "Our spells are in Latin," he explained. He looked her over and smiled again. "Would you like to help me demonstrate my magic?"

Lucy nodded her head rapidly. "Oh, yes, please!" she cried. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just stand there," Harry instructed. "And don't worry; I've mastered this spell when I was eleven so I won't drop you."

"Drop her?" Susan demanded.

"_Wingardium_ _Leviosa_," Harry cast. Lucy squealed and laughed as she floated in the air. Edmund and Peter's hands had automatically grabbed for their swords, but paused when Caspian pointed out that Lucy was only a foot in the air.

"Stop it," Susan shrieked. "What if she gets hurt?"

Lucy blew Susan a raspberry. "I'm not that high up!" she exclaimed. "This is _fun_! And besides, he said he mastered this spell when he was eleven!"

"How old _are_ you exactly?" Peter asked, still eyeing Lucy protectively.

"Sixteen," Harry replied. "But if this makes you feel that uncomfortable, I'll let her down."

When Lucy was firmly on the ground, she eyed Harry's wand excitedly. "What else can you do?" she chirped, bouncing in place.

Nikabrik clapped his hands slowly, sneer in place. "And how exactly will that spell aid us in battle?" he questioned, disbelief and outrage clear in his voice. "Making the Telmarines float a few feet in the air won't help us at all! At least with the White Witch, she coul—"

"_Petrifacus_ _Totalus_," Harry snarled, smirking with dark satisfaction as the dwarf froze and toppled over. He ignored how some of the Narnians froze up and looked at him fearfully. "So quick to judge, and so slow to think! That spell may seem harmless, but it can cause quite a lot of damage as well. It's all about the intent, when you cast spells. That particular spell could be used to, like I demonstrated, cause a person or object to simply float off the ground. You could also use that spell to lift a boulder and then drop it on someone, causing their death."

Edmund nodded his head in understanding. "Like how you use a sword," he said. "It can be used to kill, but it can also be used to protect."

Harry smiled. "Exactly."

"You can't just leave him like that!" a Black Dwarf shrieked, glaring furiously at Harry. "You rotten Wizard!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I could've done a lot worse," he sneered before murmuring a quick spell and putting away his wand.

Nikabrik sprang to his feet and bellowed to the Narnians, "YOU SEE? HE'LL KILL US ALL IN HIS SLEEP WITH THAT STICK OF HIS!"

Trumpkin scoffed. "It seems like that spell was completely justified," he said.

Trufflehunter nodded in agreement. "Us badgers will not forget the mistreatment nearly all of us suffered at the hands of the White Witch. It is like Aslan said: the only time when Narnia is peaceful and right is when a human ruled."

Agreement rippled throughout the crowd. "Trufflehunter is right," Glenstorm said sagely. "We need to fight to have our Kingdom back and help Prince Caspian take his rightful spot at the throne. It is the only way for us all to have peace."

Nikabrik huffed. "The White Wi—"

"Your continuous babble about the White Witch is open treason, dwarf!" Reepicheep exclaimed. "We will have Narnia back under High King Peter's orders, mark my words!"

"I think that is enough discussion for today," Peter called. "Let us all retire. We have a big day tomorrow and need our rest."

After wishes of a good night's rest, the Narnians began to travel throughout the tunnels in the cave to, Harry assumed, their sleeping arrangements, Nikabrik and the Black Dwarfs still glaring at Harry all the while, the Pevensies, and Caspian, Harry directed his attention to Peter and cleared his throat gently. "We had a deal," he reminded him.

Peter nodded his head. "We did," he said softly. "I'll tell you all that I know about how time works in Narnia for us. I'm afraid that's not much, though. The only one that can really help you is Aslan, but I doubt he'll be coming now."

"He will, Peter," Lucy assured. "I saw him. He'll be here."

Susan pursed her lips, but didn't voice her disbelief. Edmund sighed heavily. Caspian yawned and said softly, "I think I'll be catching up on that rest, unless I'm needed here…"

"It's alright," Peter said. "You can go to sleep. All of you can go; I'll tell Harry what I know."

Lucy and Edmund opened their mouths to protest, but sullenly obeyed Peter when he pointed to a tunnel, remembering that he was still the High King and their older brother on top of that. Susan left without a backwards glance.

"Good night, Harry, High King Peter," Caspian murmured as he left.

"Good night," Harry replied with a small smile. He turned to Peter again. "You ready?"

Peter nodded his head. "Let's get this over with."

A/N: I'm back! Sorry it's been forever and a half. I graduated high school, though, so that's good! Plus, I have a new baby sister (who is completely adorable) so life's been a tad bit heptic. But, I finally figured out what to do with this chapter and now the next. Hope this didn't disappoint; it was fairly difficult to write. I also hope I kept Nikabrik in character. In both the book and the movie, he strongly advocates the White Witch to the point of tricking Caspian into summoning her and committing treason which results in his death. I'm not sure if that'll still happen here, but he'll definitely be a little pest in the future. As for Susan's behavior, she's a fairly logical person. She didn't even really like Narnia in her first appearance and is somewhat firm in her beliefs, kind of like Hermione. So, for clarification, I'm not bashing her nor am I trying to make her bitchy. It's just me portraying her from the impression she gave me.

Reviews are always welcome and helpful. Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to update, but I make no promises since I'm working full-time now and have three other stories to try to update. Happy summer to everyone!

Also, I'm in need of a beta for this story. My grammar, spelling, characterization, and overall content needs to be looked over. I do re-read my chapters multiple times before and after posting, but I also have very poor vision. Any takers?


	4. IV: A Chat With Aslan

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from the writing of this story.

IV: A Chat with Aslan

"And that's all I know," Peter finished, stifling a yawn.

Harry sighed. "So, basically, the only one that can truly help me find my way home is Aslan."

Peter offered the Gryffindor an apologetic look. "I'm afraid so."

Harry couldn't help looking dejected. "And there's no way to contact Aslan and ask for help?"

"Aslan comes on his own time and he only appears when there's a true need for him."

"I _have_ a true need for him!" Harry cried, feeling somewhat offended. "It's not like I want to go home for the hell of it or don't want to help!"

"Relax," Peter said, putting his hands up in surrender. "I never said you were like that."

Harry ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his temples, hoping to will away the horrible headache that seized him. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just…I _need_ to go home. I can't let someone else die because I wasn't there to save them…"

Curiosity overcame Peter for a moment and before he knew it, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. "What do you mean? Who died?"

Harry flinched slightly and swallowed thickly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Of course," Peter said quickly. "I understand. I didn't mean to… It wasn't my business to pry; I'm sorry."

Harry licked his lips. "It's okay. I just…I'm tired."

"I'll show you where you'll sleep, then," Peter replied. "I'm not sure what you're used to, but I think you can fix it to your liking. It's not much since we have so many people."

"I'm used to being cramped in tiny spaces; I'm sure whatever you provide will be just fine."

Peter raised an eyebrow, but held his tongue this time. "It's all we could come up with last minute."

Harry allowed a small grin to slip onto his face. "You didn't think to set something up before you summon someone?"

Peter blushed slightly. "Well, normally it takes longer for the summoned person to reach us."

Harry tilted his head. "Oh? That could be because my world is magical as is this one. They must be closer than your world and here."

The rest of the short journey was silent. Harry smiled his thanks at Peter, though it was small, and accepted the clothes given to him. "These should be close to your size," the King said softly. "Good night. I'll wake you for breakfast."

Harry nodded his head and glanced around his dwelling. It wasn't too bad; the cupboard under the stairs had been a lot worse. At least there was room for him to sleep and move around comfortably. With a somewhat heavy heart, Harry changed into the clothes Peter had given him. They were a little baggy on him, but otherwise felt fine. Harry laid on the bed made of furs and closed his eyes.

He was incredibly torn up over being stuck in Narnia. Merlin knew he loved to help people, with his hero complex and everything, but what about the Wizarding World? What if Voldemort was taking over Hogwarts right this instant while he was lying down in a different world? What if members of his surrogate family or his friends got hurt? His solemn promise echoed in his head, taunting him.

"_I will defeat him, Ron. I will make sure that he doesn't take another one of your family members again._"

How could he protect those he held dear when he was in Narnia?

Fighting the angry tears that threatened to surface, Harry closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He _had_ to find a way to get back to his world. There just wasn't any way he could wait for Aslan to show up—if the lion even would. Though he wanted to help the Narnians get their freedom, going home was still a priority. If only there was a way to travel back and forth between the worlds instantaneously, kind of like App—

Harry sat up straight, his eyes wide. Why hadn't he thought of it before? He could Apparate back to Hogwarts! Licking his lips and trying to squash the butterflies in his stomach, Harry stood up and fingered his wand. He remembered his first Apparating class last year at Hogwarts and could still hear Ludo Bagman directing the sixth years, "_There are three important things to remember when Apparating, called the 3 Ds; which stand for destination, determination and deliberation_."

Harry smoothed his shirt nervously before closing his eyes and concentration.

Destination. _Hogwarts…my true home…the place where I belong._

Determination. _I __**need**__ to go back to Hogwarts. I __**won't**__ let someone else's blood_ _be spilled!_

Deliberation. _Take me home!_

Strangely enough, it didn't feel like being forced through a very tight rubber tube like it normally did. Harry should've realized then that something was wrong. Instead of the unpleasant feeling that accompanied Apparating, it felt more like flying. His stomach tossed and flipped, tickling him and making him feel as if he were incredibly high. And then, suddenly, he was falling though not nearly as fast as when he originally fell into the sink. He was like Alice, slowly tumbling down the rabbit hole.

Down…

_Down…_

Down…

_Down…_

It seemed like a column of light surrounded the Wizard and he was awed at the colors. Green, silver, red, gold, brown, and the prettiest shade of aqua blue swirled around Harry. He watched as orange lights swirled in front of him before taking the shape of a lion. He looked into its eyes and suddenly he wasn't falling anymore, but on a white, fluffy cloud.

"I understand your predicament, young Lion, but your place for now is here," the Lion rumbled, his deep voice wise and sagely as he sat in front of Harry.

"Are you Aslan?" Harry breathed, forgetting his embarrassment momentarily.

"I am," the Lion replied. "Rest assured, your world is safe for the time being."

"What does that mean?" Harry cried. "For the time being? Please, I have to go back. It's my duty!"

"You would leave these people when they need your help?" Aslan inquired.

Harry remained silent for a few moments. "I want to help the Narnians," he said softly, "but I can't help someone else at the expense of my own people. I was meant to be their savior first."

To his surprise, Aslan laughed. It wasn't a malicious or condescending laugh, but it still offended the Gryffindor. "You are admirable, young Lion, however mistaken you may be."

Harry tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"It is a curious thing, destiny," Aslan said, not answering Harry. "Most designs for it are created centuries before they are to come into play. You are no exception."

Harry swallowed slightly. "My destiny is to defeat Voldemort. That's why I survived the Killing Curse."

"It is your destiny to defeat that man in your world, yes, but there is another part of that prophecy that the people in your world are ignorant of."

"_Another_ part of the prophecy? How can there be another part of the prophecy that nobody in my world is aware of?" Harry asked, internally groaning at the unfairness of the universe.

Aslan laughed again. "It doesn't happen often, but it does happen," Aslan said kindly. "Your world is ignorant to this part of the prophecy because it doesn't concern them. Destiny has its own way of completing its plans; this would be one of those ways."

Harry sighed. "Do I get to hear the other part of the prophecy?"

"All in good time, young Lion," Aslan said lightly. "All in good time."

"You sound like my Headmaster," Harry grumbled. He bit his lip and asked, "May I ask a question?"

"I believe you just did, but if you feel the need to ask another, you may do so."

"Why didn't you help them?" Harry asked softly. "The Narnians needed you and you weren't there for them. How could you just turn a cold shoulder?"

Aslan sighed slightly. "It is not my place to step into Narnia's affairs on a whim. Things happen for a reason and though it aches terribly with the realization that good and honest Narnians were cruelly and unfairly persecuted, it was not within my power to stop it."

"But," Harry protested, "I _saw_ you take down the White Witch. I _saw_ you help Peter and the others. If you could help take back Narnia then, why couldn't you help the Narnians when the Telmarines started taking over?"

Aslan was silent for a few moments. "Those are very valid questions, young Lion, and you were wise to ask them. However, in order to fully understand the answers to your questions, you must first know the abilities and limits of us beings that came to be before the Dawn of Time."

Harry frowned slightly. "How old _are_ you?"

Aslan let out a hearty chuckle that sounded more like a cross between a roar and a growl. "Not as old as the Deep Magic that is the foundation of all universes, but close enough I suppose."

"I thought Professor Dumbledore was old, but you're _ancient_," Harry said in awe. He blushed when he realized how rude it sounded, but Aslan let his apologetic look roll off of him as quickly as he allowed the comment to.

"It is time for you to return," Aslan said softly. "But before you leave, there are things you should be privy to. The skills you acquire during your stay in Narnia will go with you when you return to your world. Keep an eye on the Black Dwarfs, but do not judge and take no permanent action against them unless necessary. Ever since the defeat of the White Witch, the treatment of their race has severely declined and they are merely a lost people with no direction to the right path."

Harry nodded his head. "How will I return?" he asked, looking at the white fluff surrounding them.

Aslan didn't move to reply and instead blew at Harry, his warm breath surrounding the Wizard. Harry was startled for a brief moment and watched as the cloud disappeared and the lights returned, swirling around him as he fell. The lights softly caressed his skin, eliciting breathy gasps and toe-curling shudders down his back. He flushed deeply, though nobody could see him, as his body, specifically the lower half, reacted to the feather-like brushes against his skin.

And then the falling stopped. Harry landed on top of something with a grunt, successfully having the wind knocked out of him. He took a moment to catch his breath and then realized whatever he had landed on top of had also grunted, though it was in pain. Harry swallowed thickly and looked at what he fell on and his eyes widened in horror.

Peter stared back at him, his eyes also wide. For a moment, neither boy moved and instead stared at each other, frozen. Then Harry sat up quickly, mouth opening to utter an apology only to let out a strangled moan. In his haste to scramble off of Peter, he didn't realize that by sitting up, he would be straddling the other boy's hips, causing their precious anatomy to brush teasingly. Slapping his hand over his mouth, Harry stood up and stumbled away.

"Sorry," he squeaked, cheeks aflame as he tugged his shirt down uselessly to try to cover his reaction. "I didn't…I tried to…Aslan…bye!"

Harry ran all the way back to his sleeping quarters, trying desperately to find it while covering his lower half and succeeding in taking three wrong turns, toppling over two dwarves, almost stepping on a mouse, and tripping six times.

A/N: Poor, poor Harry. I apologize for the tiny delay, but I was on vacation to my hometown (New York City) for a week and couldn't get this out in time. I also have a new beta, so thanks to everyone who offered! This isn't as long as I would've liked, so I'll just try to make the next one longer. Reviews would be awesome. Thanks for reading!


	5. V: Training and Talks

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from the writing of this story.

V: Training and Talks

The next day, Harry tried in vain to avoid Peter. He could remember the events of the night previous quite vividly, bringing a red hot blush to his face. It wasn't like he was disgusted by what had happened—though he never pictured himself with a boy, he never really thought about himself with a girl either. Harry felt embarrassed because a part of him felt as if he molested Peter and because he could remember that jolt of fire within him that enjoyed the sensation of the…er… accidental brushing. With a pitiful whimper, he hid his face in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. He took several deep breaths, mustering all of the Gryffindor courage he had and left his sleeping quarters.

Harry bit his lip, not quite remembering the path to the main entrance to the cave. Lady Luck was on his side, however, when Prince Caspian appeared down the path of the cave, blinking in surprise.

"Great, I don't need to wake you," he said kindly with a smile on his face as he walked towards Harry. "How was your night?"

Harry's face immediately morphed into an embarrassed grimace and he quickly looked down at his feet. "F-fine," he stammered, cursing himself for being so damn easy to read.

Caspian raised his eyebrow. "Indeed," he said dryly, shaking his head even though the smile never left his face. "Today is a training day."

"Good," Harry replied quietly. "I haven't done much physical training, though. My only training I've had was with my wand."

"High King Peter will teach you," Caspian assured him.

'_That's what I'm afraid of_,' Harry thought miserably. '_How can I face him after I accosted him so?_'

"Have you ever handled a weapon other than your wand?" Caspian inquired curiously, leading Harry through the labyrinth of tunnels with practiced ease.

"I used a sword once when I was twelve, but that didn't work out so well," Harry admitted. "I wasn't told how to use it and it was a high-pressure situation, so all I really did was swing it around like a lunatic."

Caspian chuckled at the mental image and stifled his laughter when he saw the glint that appeared in the beautiful emerald gaze. "Sorry," he apologized though he didn't look or feel sorry. "The mental image was somewhat amusing."

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. "No, it's not," he grumbled.

Caspian laughed once more. Too soon for Harry's liking, they made it outside of the sanctuary of the cave and weaved their way through the training Narnians. Even sooner, they made their way to where the Pevensie siblings were practicing. Harry winced when he saw Peter not only practicing his sword fighting with Edmund, but doing so shirtless. With yesterday all too fresh in his mind, Harry contemplated on turning around and running back to his quarters immediately.

However, he knew if he tried that he would only get lost again.

"Look who's finally awake," Edmund teased with an easy grin, panting as he and Peter came to a halt. "Did you have a nice night at Aslan's How?"

"Oh, the cave has a name?" Harry asked stupidly, furrowing his brows slightly. "My night was…okay."

Peter coughed slightly at the awkward atmosphere and offered Harry an easy smile. "You mentioned Aslan last night?" he asked lowly, ignoring Edmund and Caspian's sharp questioning looks.

Harry focused on breathing and nodded his head. "Yes," he murmured. "We can talk about it later."

Edmund raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, sure," he replied. "Now, let's get down to business. Have you ever fought with a sword? Or a staff? Perhaps a club?"

Harry shook his head, squinting as the bright sun beamed down on him. "No," he said. "I've used my wand and, like I told Caspian, I used a sword once but I wasn't told how to use it and just ended up looking like an idiot with it and nearly poked my eye out."

Edmund nodded understandingly. "A newbie then, alright," he replied. "I'm sure we can work out a training regimen for you, right, Pete?"

Peter nodded his head. "Yes, we will," he said softly. "For now, I will teach him how to properly hold a sword. We'll start with that. Edmund, you will help teach him strategy and maneuvers. Caspian, you will be his sparring partner. Unless we come up with a better plan later, this is how we'll do it. Any questions?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it's fine. When do we start?"

Peter grinned. "Right now," he replied cheerfully. "You may want to take off your shirt; I'm going to make you sweat."

Naughty images immediately flooded his subconscious and Harry stubbornly pushed them away before his body could react to that. He scowled, somewhat angry at his body's betrayal to his mind. It wasn't the time to start thinking such perverted thoughts!

Edmund, who thought Harry scowled because he had to take off his shirt, clapped the Boy Hero on his back and laughed. "Cheer up, man," he said with a grin. "You don't have anything we haven't seen before."

Harry stuck his tongue out at the young King. "I'm not used to partaking in physical activities half-naked," he explained quietly. "I don't really have a problem with it, I suppose. It's just odd."

Edmund smirked, nodding his head in mock understanding. "Of course," he said sarcastically.

Harry rolled his eyes before, after only a moment's hesitation, he took his shirt off. He wasn't very muscled, but years of playing Quidditch certainly paid off. He'd developed wiry muscles that complimented his lithe frame, and was overall fairly pleasant to look at. Harry noticed Peter's eyes glued at his torso and, slightly uncomfortable, he turned to Caspian.

"What are we doing first?" he asked, glancing at Edmund.

"You need to properly stretch," Peter said, snapping out of his daze. "We don't need you pulling a muscle of anything. After we have a good stretch, Edmund will show you how you to position yourself."

"Er, there's a specific way to do that?" Harry asked, scratching the back of his head.

Edmund nodded his head. "I thought it was silly as well when I first started sword-fighting, but it helps. We'll need to do exercises to build the muscles in your legs and then I'll show you some stances that will help you with defensive and offensive fighting."

Harry still looked a little skeptical, but he nodded none-the-less. "Alright, shall we get started?"

Peter nodded his head. "Sit down and give me your hands with your legs spread wide."

"Do what?" Harry asked, his eyes wide as his mind came up with horrible images.

"We'll show you." Edmund sat and spread his legs, watching as Caspian mirrored his movements. He grabbed Caspian's hands and leaned back, making Caspian stretch towards him.

"Oh. Sorry, I'm a bit…off today," Harry tried to say, nervously sitting down.

If Peter noticed his behavior, he didn't comment on it. They stretched in silence and Harry did his best to avoid looking at the other boy. The air was somewhat awkward, and Harry mentally slapped himself. He was a Gryffindor, damn it! Aslan himself had called him a young lion. Mustering up enough courage as he could, Harry looked up and was surprised to see Peter staring at him.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked hesitantly.

Harry nodded his head. "I'm sorry I fell on you last night," he blurted out, worrying his lower lip. "In the Wizarding world, we have this thing called Apparating. Basically, it's almost like teleporting. When I tried it, I ended up on some white cloud and then Aslan appeared. He told me that for now, my place was here. My world is safe until I return, and I'll only be able to return when I'm done helping you with yours."

Peter blinked, digesting the information. "So you'll stay and help?" he asked softly.

Harry nodded his head again, this time more firmly. "I'll do all I can," he promised. "Now that I know that my world will be alright without me, I can help protect yours more efficiently. Aslan also told me that the skills I learn here will come back with me, and that'll give me an advantage against Voldemort."

"Voldy-who?" Edmund asked in confusion.

Harry startled, not realizing that he was talking loud enough for Caspian and Edmund to hear him. "Voldemort," he said softly. "He's the reason why my world is in danger. He's…well, I guess you could compare him to the White Witch, only worse. _Much_ worse."

Edmund paled. "Worse?" His voice sounded weak.

Glancing at him, Harry remembered he had been tricked by the White Witch and only realized later how wrong his judgment had been. "The White Witch took prisoners," he said with a grimace. "You'd rather die than be Voldemort's prisoner. He won't turn you to stone like she had. He'd kill you without a second glance if you didn't join him."

Caspian flinched slightly. "And _you_ have to get rid of him?" he asked faintly.

Harry looked at him. "I'm the only one that can," he said solemnly. "There was a prophecy regarding us. Either I kill him, or he kills me. And takes over the world, of course."

Peter swallowed thickly. "Let's show you those stances," he murmured, changing the subject.

Harry nodded his head, feeling rather morbid. If he really did keep the skills he learned here in Narnia, then he'd train as much as he could. He needed to defeat Voldemort; there was no room for failure. His eyes hardening in determination, Harry paid close attention to Edmund's instructions on how he needed to change his stance. In order to build muscles in his legs, Edmund had Harry run around a perimeter Peter and Caspian had set up. Never before had Harry been thankful for his crappy childhood at the Dursleys. If it weren't for Dudley and his gang chasing him around the neighborhood, there would've been no way Harry could've survived the laps he'd ran. It didn't take long for sweat to drip down his back.

They trained for two hours before Edmund, the newly dubbed Evil Slave Driver in Harry's mind, let him take a break. "Don't just collapse on the ground," Edmund warned. "Walk slowly so your body can cool down or you'll cramp up."

Harry wanted to flip him off, but remembered that the training was very much necessary. "I didn't think I was so out of shape," he mumbled to himself as he nearly stumbled into a tree.

Caspian laughed and walked beside him. "You were actually pretty good, for someone who's never trained physically," he assured.

Harry laughed tiredly. "That's a bold-faced lie, but I appreciate that."

Caspian grinned. "I don't lie," he said cheekily. "I'm very much a gentleman, thank you."

Harry snorted. "Whatever you say." His expression became more serious. "If this helps me when I go back home, though, I'll do it."

Caspian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "You'll save your world," he said quietly, "and you'll help save ours."

Harry stopped walking and stared at him. "How can you be so sure about that?"

Caspian smiled. "You're more determined than anyone I've ever met," he said honestly. "And I get the feeling you'll do whatever it takes, even at the risk of yourself, to ensure the people you care about are safe." Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Caspian continued quickly, "And yes, I do think that includes the Narnians, for the resemblance they are to the people in your own world if nothing else."

Harry sighed. "I also didn't think I was that obvious," he mused.

Caspian shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "I'm just good at reading people."

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head. "Of course," he said, rolling his eyes but smiling. His stomach grumbled. "Got any food?"

Caspian chuckled and led him to the food line. "I have a feeling, Harry Potter, that your mere presence here has already caused the advantages in this war to tip in our favor."

Harry looked skeptical, but remained silent. He hoped he could help these people. The sooner he helped free the Narnians, the sooner he could defeat Voldemort.

A/N: I know; I'm an evil hag for taking so long to update. The truth is, the Twilight fandom is very greedy and relentless. I was, unfortunately, ensnared. Still, I haven't forgotten about this little baby of mine and will continue it (along with the sequel, which is already outlined). Please review and let me know what you think. Oh, and there won't be any Caspian/Harry romantic action in this story. Um, I might write a spin-off with a Caspian/Harry vibe if people request it, but this story will firmly remain Peter/Harry.


	6. VI: Fear Shifters

_**UPDATE**_: Alright, I don't normally do this, but due to some reviews, I really felt that I needed to. I've had some complaints about Harry being "weak", and I really felt that I needed to address the characterization not just to select reviewers but to all the readers. I have a massively long A/N at the bottom of this chapter explaining my points. Please do not skip it over. Thanks.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from the writing of this story.

VI: Fear Shifters

King Miraz stared at the dead creatures littering the castle floors with disgusted satisfaction. Their pathetic plot to overtake the Telmarine castle had failed, and he could barely prevent the sinister chuckles that wanted to overtake him at such a silly notion. Those foul creatures, the _Narnians_, overtake the _Telmarine_ castle? It was absolutely ridiculous. He almost couldn't believe Caspian had sided with those things. Almost.

Caspian was too much like his father. Underneath the somewhat aloof façade, there was the calculating viciousness. It was easy to forget about since the latest Caspian's darker side was suppressed by his more lovable nature. Miraz's lip curled in disgust. He'd warned his brother that Caspian would inherit the less desirable traits from his mother. The Telmarine kingdom didn't need a soft-hearted leader; they needed a stern, iron ruler.

That's why, of course, he was the best choice for King.

"Get rid of this filth," Miraz ordered, turning away from the sight and heading back into his room. The servants scrambled to obey.

"Do you realize what you've done?" Queen Prunaprismia asked quietly, staring at her hands.

"I will handle this," Miraz told her with a cocked eyebrow. "Do you doubt me?"

Prunaprismia looked up at him. "Caspian," she spat angrily, "will do everything in his power to get revenge. Those _creatures_ he's leading, they're getting bolder. Look at what they've done. How many casualties have there been?"

"Most weren't our people," Miraz pointed out. He raised his hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "Caspian will get his, just like his father."

Prunaprismia shook her head and her eyes filled with tears. "You'll do everything in your power to win this war, right?" She sniffled slightly. "Our son…he needs a father, Miraz. Promise me you'll win, and Caspian will be dead by the time this is over."

Miraz smirked coldly. "Caspian may take after my late brother in some ways, but he lacks the Telmarine strength. He is too soft-hearted, and that will be his downfall. Do not worry," he murmured, cupping her face in his hand. "I will one day pass the throne to our son, and he will rule this kingdom like a true Telmarine. Caspian and his little band of Narnians will be fairy tales once more."

Prunaprismia smiled and closed her eyes in relief. She hugged her husband close. That ungrateful wretched horror will get his. "I'll go check on your heir," she whispered, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear before pulling away from his warmth and leaving their chambers.

Miraz watched her go before fetching a servant. "Bring me the general," he hissed dangerously.

He didn't need to wait long before the general stood at attention in his chambers. "My Lord," the general said quietly.

"As you can see, the Narnians are getting bolder," Miraz began, pacing.

"Are we going to war, my Lord?" the general asked.

Miraz smiled chillingly again. "I don't want them dead, yet," he purred savagely. "I want them broken."

"What do you wish to do, my Lord?"

Miraz stopped pacing in front of his general. "Release the captured Fear Shifters in their land." His smile widened. "We'll have them begging for mercy at our feet like the _beasts_ they are."

* * *

He couldn't help but think Hermione would be proud if she knew what Harry was up to; after all, how many times had she tried to get him to seriously think about anything? The Gryffindor snorted in amusement before continuing to ponder over recent events. Aslan had told him that he would keep the skills he learned here and take them with him back to the Wizarding world. That was great and all, but how could he use such skills in the mid 1990s?

A light bulb went off in his head, so to speak. He was mainly learning how to use a sword. Who would expect swords to be used in the war? Not the Death Eaters, that's for sure! Harry grinned slightly. Maybe learning how to use the ruddy thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

Improving his body physically would also be a good thing. Wizards and witches relied too much on their wands. It was their only means as a weapon. Without their wands, they were useless. Harry had always been fast, but if he could improve his speed through this physical training, he could probably dodge even more spells than he was currently capable. He wondered if any of the Pevensies knew any hand-to-hand combat as well. Moody had begun to teach him some martial arts, but he'd been killed in a raid not too long ago. His former professor was only one of many casualties.

Harry's thoughts took a somber turn, but he quickly shook his head. He would remember the lives lost in this war over blood, but he wouldn't dwell too long on them. Harry needed to keep moving towards the future in order to really defeat Voldemort. Staying focused on the past would only distract him from his job.

"Harry?"

Harry looked at the pelt that served as a door. "Come in."

Caspian walked inside and grinned. "Ready for another day of training?"

Harry groaned. "I swear, you're worse than Edmund," he grumbled.

Caspian laughed. "Training physically can also help your mental and emotional training."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Really?"

The young Prince nodded, becoming slightly serious. "Training physically requires control. If you wish to be an excellent swordsman, you need to be able to concentrate on the task at hand while maintaining a high level of awareness of your surroundings lest you be attacked. In a way, you're almost clearing your mind and your face becomes blank. This becomes harder for enemies to fight you because they cannot read your facial expressions for some sort of clue as to what your next attack will be. By this mental training, you are also training your emotions. With your mind clear, you'll be able to think normally without letting anger or fear or any other emotion overtake your actions. It's all connected, you see," Caspian finished matter-of-factly.

Harry thought this over. He hated the phrase, '_Clear your mind_,' but he understood how it could help in the heat of battle. How often had he let his emotions get the best of him? Too many, he decided, and unfortunately other people seemed to pay the price for his actions.

His thoughts wandered over to Snape, and he scowled. He loathed the man, that traitor. Given what had transpired between himself and Professor Dumbledore before they'd returned to Hogwarts that fateful night not too long ago, Harry knew Snape wasn't _totally_ responsible for the late elderly Headmaster's death. That didn't mean he liked the greasy git any more, though. The fact remained that he'd delivered the Killing Curse and ultimately ended the life of one of the greatest wizard's the world had seen.

_"Have you ever thought, Headmaster, that perhaps you ask for too much?"_

He could still hear Snape's words echoing in his head, his voice uncharacteristically colored in something akin to anguish. Harry's scowl deepened; he'd loved Dumbledore with all of his heart, but even he had realized that the late Headmaster manipulated certain events to ensure not only Harry's survival but also a firm belief in the _Greater_ _Good_. That thought hurt him deeply; was he only a pawn to the man he'd respected and admired? Was he _only_ a means to an end?

Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. He'd come to terms with his destiny and understood that he had a duty to save the world his parents and countless others had fought so desperately to protect. He was the Chosen One, the Savior, the Boy Who Lived. Only he could defeat Voldemort, and he hated it, but accepted it. Instead of fighting it, he'd learned to not necessarily embrace the prophecy, but rather tolerate it. He was the only one in the entire world (that was filled will a hell of a lot more capable wizards than him) from Voldemort? Fine. He'd make damn well sure that he and others he cared about stayed alive, though. He had to.

_"Don't you understand? I have to do this. He'll kill her otherwise."_

Harry angrily blocked out Malfoy's desperate words. The rational part of him understood that Malfoy was forced into his situation, much like him, but the more emotional part couldn't overlook that _Malfoy_ led the Death Eaters into the school, _Malfoy_ allowed Dumbledore's death to be carried out, _Malfoy_ was the reason so many people—students—had gotten hurt and about half of Hogwarts was missing. He may have done it for justified reasons, but Malfoy had opened the door to victory for Voldemort significantly and everyone else was suffering because of it.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry snapped out of his thoughts and nodded his head weakly at Caspian, ignoring the worried look. "Just thinking about less-than-pleasant things back home," he elaborated. He traced circles over his knee. "I'm trying to think of a way to fulfill the prophecy. How the bloody hell can I bring what I'm learning _here_ to the war back _there_?"

Caspian winced. He knew it was a touchy subject for the wizard and pity stirred in the pit of his stomach. He could understand fighting wars (though he didn't necessarily agree with the reasons behind certain ones, like _this_ one for example), but couldn't grasp the concept that only one person could put an end to it all. "Do you mind if I ask a question?" he asked hesitantly.

Harry gave him a tiny grin that didn't reach his eyes. "You just did, but you may ask another one," he teased, snorting in amusement when Caspian looked at him slightly annoyed. Now he understood why Aslan had said that to him; it was entertaining.

"How can one person win a war?" the Prince blurted out, scowling as he began to pace. "It takes an entire _army_ to fight and win a war! Why is this burden only placed on your shoulders?"

Harry looked shocked. "I may be the only person that can end it," he admitted softly, "but I'm certainly not the only one fighting it. Everyone is doing their part in some way. The Aurors, I suppose you can liken them with soldiers, they fight against Voldemort's forces on a daily basis. Some of our allies within the Ministry are working towards crippling Voldemort's finances.

"A good portion of the people, sadly, are helpless and don't contribute much to the war effort besides fear and ignorance. However, a lot of other people are trying to help in their own way. It's just, Voldemort's crippled the British Wizarding public for nearly two decades and people are just scared. Personally, I think the Wizarding world contributed to the creation of Voldemort, but that's another discussion for another day.

"And yes, while it's true that, in the end, _I_ need to deliver the finishing blow, if it weren't for the people fighting beside me, helping me, and showing me _why_ I fight, I wouldn't be able to do it."

Caspian stared at him, slightly shocked. "You'd make a great King," he said softly.

Harry flushed. "Nah," he replied uncertainly.

Before another word could be said, terrified shrieks echoed from outside. The two shared a glance before running out of Aslan's How, their chosen weapons at the ready. It was absolute chaos with people screaming, crying, and running around. Harry spotted the Pevensie siblings and tugged Caspian towards them. Harry froze, however, when he saw the White Witch in front of Edmund. Peter tried to make a slash at her, but it was useless.

The Black Dwarfs looked at the White Witch with excitement, like she was a Messiah and had come to save them. Nikabrik looked exceptionally pleased if his nasty grin was any indication. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. The others of his race quickly followed, and Nikabrik looked up only to smirk at Harry's wide-eyed expression.

The White Witch grinned ferally. "Did you really think you could escape me, Edmund? Could escape the darkness inside you that longs for recognition? You're always stuck in Peter's shadow, but don't you deserve so much more?" she purred. "I can give you that recognition, Edmund."

Edmund shivered, shaking his head in denial. "No," he murmured weakly, trying to stop the tremors coursing through his body. His eyes watered, remembering what it was like to fall for her lies and remembering the pain he'd caused his siblings. He glanced over at his sisters; Lucy was next to Susan, staring at him with wide eyes. He'd hurt her the most.

"You're _mine_!" she shrieked.

Peter let out a ferocious snarl and jumped in front of Edmund, slicing through the White Witch's body only for it to leap out of the way and change into something else. "What are you?" Peter growled, staring at the thing in confusion and anger.

The thing finished changing; it was a woman, her eyes glaring at Peter. "You disgust me," she sneered.

'A _boggart_?' Harry thought, pointing his wand at the thing.

Peter froze, his eyes wide. "Mum…?"

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" the woman continued angrily. "I won't have any son of mine act freakishly! You're unnatural; an abomination!"

Harry winced at Peter's stricken expression and the confused, scared faces of his siblings. Caspian made to rush forward, but Harry stopped him. "Your sword is useless," the smaller boy hissed. "You can only fight and defeat a boggart with magic."

Not waiting for an answer, Harry rushed forward brandishing his wand. The counter was at the tip of his tongue when the boggart changed into a beautiful red-haired woman, her green eyes so like Harry's hardened with hate.

"I should've let Voldemort have you," she snapped. "Some hero you turned out to be. I could be living if only you'd bloody died."

Harry knew it was the boggart saying this, knew that his mother loved him enough to sacrifice her life for his, but his heart clenched at the words and the counter couldn't force its way past his lips. What if his mum regretted it?

"That's not true," he whispered harshly, shaking his head. "My mum loved me."

The boggart smirked before changing its form again. James Potter with hazel eyes and Harry's same wild hair looked down on him, his lips pulled back into a sneer. "You're no son of mine."

Harry closed his eyes shut, forcing himself to hiss out, "_Riddikulus_!"

Nothing changed.

The boggart-thing was unrelenting, changing its form to various people. Cedric glared angrily at him, dressed in simple robes with Hufflepuff colors. A dirty footprint was smudged on his cheek where Voldemort had mocked him. "You tricked me into taking that cup!" he raged. "You killed me!"

"No, I didn't!" Harry protested. "We agreed to take it together!"

Then Hermione was looking at him, disappointment written across her bloody face. "Why couldn't you have just killed Him?" she asked quietly. Her voice held no emotion, and in a way that hurt more than the anger and disgust he'd been shown. "It's your fault I died, you know. He murdered me, Harry, and you did _nothing_. You stood back and watched as he killed me, as he rid the world of yet another Mudblood. I thought you were my friend…"

"I am your friend," Harry bit out, shaking and uncaring that many of the Narnians were looking on in horror. "I wouldn't have done that, Hermione. You have to—!"

Hermione morphed into Snape, and he snarled at Harry. "You're weak," he spat. "Because of your ineptitude in doing anything right, the Dark Lord can read your mind like an open book! You might as well have _Avada Kedavra_'d everyone your bloody self, you incompetent fool! Looks like fame doesn't give you everything. You're just as arrogant as your father, and twice as stupid!"

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared, clutching his wand tightly and pointing it at the boggart-thing. He hissed the counter again, and still the boggart-thing showed no sign of stopping.

Snape turned to Dumbledore. There was no twinkle in his blue eyes, and his arm was horrifically shriveled. "Mr. Potter, you have disappointed me," he said, tsking and shaking his head. "A worthless pawn will not do in the battle against Voldemort. I'm afraid you've doomed the world."

"You wouldn't say that," Harry whispered shakily. His heart clenched painfully, but he ignored it. "I…I'm doing fucking my best…"

Dumbledore switched to Sirius. "Why couldn't you have stayed put? If it weren't for my needing to bail your sorry arse, I'd still be alive," Sirius snarled angrily, looking very much like his canine form. "Murderer!"

Something in Harry's head snapped. Sirius would never say that to him, would never have accused Harry of murdering him. It was only something that had haunted his dreams. He'd always feared that Sirius would blame Harry of his death, but they were just that—fears. The boggart-thing was spouting nonsense, trying to weaken him.

And damn it all, it was working. He knew subconsciously that the people accusing him of such horrid things would never speak to him in such a manner—well, Snape might have, actually—but why did it all hurt so much? Hardening his eyes, Harry began to shout ever counter curse he could think of and tried his best to ignore the vile words spewing from the boggart-thing's mouth.

Sirius became Voldemort, his ruby red eyes glinting maliciously. His grin showed his forked tongue and his snake-like nostrils twitched ever-so-slightly. Harry was vaguely aware of the screams Voldemort's presence had enticed out of the Narnians. Voldemort laughed cruelly and brought his wand up. "_Crucio_!" he hissed.

Harry was caught off guard when the spell actually worked and collapsed on the floor, writhing and biting his lip to keep from screaming. Red hot needles pricked at his nerves, making him convulse and groan in pain. Blood filled his mouth. The curse ended and he panted, feeling the elixir of life dribble out of his mouth. His vision was disoriented, and he could barely move his muscles.

Lucy sobbed into Susan's arms, the elder girl not looking much better. She'd never seen anyone get tortured, not even in all of her years ruling Narnia. Edmund still hadn't recovered from the emotional assault from the White Witch, and Peter and Caspian looked at Harry with obvious worry. They'd tried to slash at the boggart-thing with their swords again, and had even chucked things at it, but their attempts were in vain.

"You should've joined me when you had the chance, Harry," Voldemort said softly, leaning down to caress the shivering boy's cheek. "But now, I will bring you down to your knees. You will suffer, Harry Potter, and know why the world should always fear my name. You will lose _everything_."

It was familiar, almost the same thing Voldemort had told him in the atrium before he'd been possessed. He remembered the overwhelming darkness that had overtaken him, and he remembered Dumbledore's kind words.

_"It isn't how you're alike, Harry. It's how you're **different**."_

He remembered trying to stop his friends from going with him to the Ministry, and Hermione telling him forcefully, _"When are you going to get it through your thick head? We're in this **together**!"_

He remembered Sirius hugging him over the Yule hols after he'd woken up from a nightmare and murmuring comfortingly, _"Your parents would be so proud of you, Harry. You're becoming the man they'd hoped you'd grow into and so much more."_

Harry slowed his breathing and looked up to glare defiantly at the Dark Lord. "You are not Voldemort," he spat angrily. "You are nothing more than a boggart, preying on my insecurities and fears. I have friendship, and I've experienced love. These are my strengths, and it's what will help me survive this war; it's what will allow me to protect my friends with everything I have. So you can take my doubts and fears, and fuck yourself!"

The boggart-thing hissed angrily and shifted its form one last time. A dementor swooped down, sucking Harry's soul out of his body. He could hear people screaming around him, but his mother's screams and her begging overtook his senses. He could feel his happy memories draining away. He thought of his parents, who sacrificed their lives. He thought of Sirius, who had brought sunshine into his days. He thought of his friends, who bravely stuck by him through thick and thin (though there were admittedly bumpy roads). Finally, he thought of this new world, the promise he made, the warmth of his budding friendship with Caspian, the slight attraction developing to Peter, the innocence of Lucy's smile, the similarities between Susan and Hermione, between Edmund and Ron.

His grip on his wand tightened, and he pointed it at the dementor. "_Expecto Patronum_!" he said firmly, watching as the silvery stag erupted from the tip of his of his wand and attacked the dementor with everything it had.

He stayed awake long enough to see the dementor explode and his stag melt into nothingness. The edges of his vision blackened as he was suddenly surrounded by worried people shaking him and asking questions. His emerald eyes met Peter's worried ones.

Then everything went dark.

A/N:** 10.20.11** Well, I finally had some time to go over and edit the end of this chapter. It's not much of a difference, but I adjusted Harry's reaction to the Fear Shifter. I've also decided to leave my super long note up so I don't continuously repeat myself as to why I characterize Harry the way I do. Thanks to those that stuck by this!

_**UPDATED NOTE**_:

In regards to the boggart: though Harry assumes it's a boggart, and it's my fault for not making this clear in the chapter, it's nothing like the boggarts encountered in the Harry Potter world. The Narnians do not have magic, wands, or latin incantations to be able to properly ward off an HP-style boggart should they come across one. Thus, they had to find a new way to defeat what they call Fear Shifters. So, no, a Riddikulus would not have done much to what Harry considers a boggart. Again, it was my fault for not accurately portraying what I had in my head into that section of the chapter.

"I eamn, he already knew it was a boggart and how to defeat it, easily. Why was he still affected and became so weak during the changes and keeps on saying "no more, stop.." ugh... So weak."

-Why was he affected? Because despite the various titles under his belt that sings his praises, Harry is still very much a 16-year-old boy. Honestly, Harry should've buckled under such pressure in canon and that is why I portray him as such. It's all perfectly natural what he's feeling. As I said in my A/N, this takes place just after HBP during the summer. Dumbledore's death is still fresh in his mind and his emotions are haywire.

The Fear Shifter changed into people he cared about as well as someone who constantly brought him down. If you were faced with people you loved spewing vile, hateful words, how can you NOT be affected by it? I really don't understand how that makes Harry_weak_ as opposed to only _**human.**_

"Well... one thing about how I see Harry fighting the boggart is,m and how you portray him is... and i ddnt expect it inr eference from your previous chapters, is weak."

-Again, I don't feel I portrayed him as weak but rather emphasized his humanity. Boy Wonder or not, Harry has a TON of emotional baggage and it is grossly understated in the books. Neglect and emotional abuse has its toll on victims, and the books show not a lick of it. I severely disagree with that, and so I make sure to show that despite whatever awesome magical powers Harry might have, he isn't invincible nor is he able to brush things off. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and it's his greatest strength.

16-year-old boys have the ability to cry and whine. They get their feelings hurt, though they try to hide it. What's wrong with Harry acting his age for once?

"But the way you executed it... made Harry look to weak and defenseless, completely disregarding his previous experience with boggarts."

-And, once more, Harry may be in Narnia, but not everything is the same as it was in the Wizarding world. They are two SEPARATE magical places and though he can bring and leave with knowledge from both worlds, that doesn't mean everything will be the same. To assume such a thing is almost dishonoring both of these amazing worlds. The only real similarities between them are 1) they're magical lands, 2) someone evil tried to take over it, and 3) they have a few similar creatures. Other than that, they are very much different.

"You're making Harry so weak and helpless."

-No. I showed his vulnerability. _**He's 16, not Superman**_.

"How could there even be a boggart anyway. They don't have those in Narnia. Not even mentionned in the books."

-This is the part where I claim artistic licence. I don't recall it being necessary for me to follow the books strictly. Besides, there were ulterior motives to having Harry's doubts/fears ripped from him, put on display, and him ultimately conquering them.

And here is the part where I sound perhaps a mite bitchy, but oh well. I appreciate every single review out there. I am extremely thrilled to have some actual constructive criticism; there were some obvious execution flaws on my part for not accurately transferring my ideas from my head to this chapter, and thanks for opening my eyes. I have trouble sometimes viewing my work from the outside objectively and seeing how it really is as opposed to how I imagine it in my noggin. Getting better, but there are still obvious times where my blonde shows. ^^;

On the other hand, however, while I favor my Harry to be strong, sexy, dangerous, all that good shizz, I also highly appreciate realistic characterization. As mentioned before, this takes place just after HBP. That means Harry just watched Dumbledore, his mentor, die. Not just die, but murdered in front of him and he couldn't do anything to stop it. Canon does a _**terrible**_ job at conveying the grief someone feels after losing a loved one in favor of making him this totally awesome and super cool guy who can do amazingly wonderful things because it's his destiny. As I continue to point out, he is only sixteen years old and human.

His emotions are his greatest strength, though at times they can be a great weakness. Sure he may have crumbled a bit when the Fear Shifter in the forms of many people he loved, but ultimately it was his emotions that helped him defeat it. I'm very certain that should the almighty Albus Dumbledore stepped in front of a Fear Shifter and had to listen as Arianna blamed him for her death, for not being able to protect her, he would've dropped like a sack of potatoes. He's magically powerful, but harboring such a guilt and pain for so long will take its toll on anyone and I doubt anyone would call him weak for it. Or, if they do, they need to be kicked. Placing a traumatized person in front of a creature/thing that preys on his/her fears, doubts, insecurities, and then calling said person_weak_ for having them is like placing a bleeding fish inside of shark-infested waters and scolding the fish for being eaten. No logic to it, is there? (Weird analogy, but that's how this brain works, kay?)

Another thing people tend to forget is that Harry is a neglected and abused child. Years of being called a freak, useless, worthless, and all sorts of horrible names will have an impact on him and Rowling doesn't do even a fairly decent job at portraying it.

So before this explanation further spirals into a debate about the realistic nature of canon for HP, I'm going to say right now that Narnia, while definitely helping Harry learn techniques to take home and fight Voldemort, will also be helping him emotionally and mentally. If you don't like the idea of Harry acting like a regular teenager (or, I loathe to say, _**weak**_), then now is the time to stop reading. Harry is going to be awesome and cool, but he will first and foremost be an actual person. He will learn a lot and he will truly grow into the hero he's meant to be while helping Narnia and developing feelings for Peter.

One last note, and here is when my inner bitch claws her way out my mind, I'm writing this story for _me_. Reviews are fine and dandy, but _I'm_ writing this story the way _I_ see fit. Sorry if you don't agree with that, but I can't honestly say that I care too much. I love suggestions and they even give me my own ideas, but I am not under any sort of obligation to take any of them. While I love to have people enjoying my stories, I'm not going to try to please everyone and lose my own voice in the process. Nope. Not gonna happen. So, and I really do mean this, thank you for every criticism, suggestion, review, etc., but please don't expect me to just change my plans and chapters just because some aspect of this story doesn't please you.

And that is the ending to this excruciatingly long-winded explanation/rant, and I do apologize for the length. Because of the terribly noticeable flaws of my execution of the Fear Shifter scene, that part will undergo some major revision. It won't be removed because I quite like it, but I do see how it falls short of not just everyone's expectations but also my own style of writing. Don't expect it out soon, however, as I do have other stories and priorities that need to be taken care of. Otherwise, farewell, and if you still stick with me, much thanks. If not, sayonara.


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